


The Dashing Rogue

by The_Exile



Category: Original Work
Genre: Accidental kidnapping, Arranged Marriage, Attempted Seduction, Burglary, Evil Corporations, F/M, Flirting, Humour, Lima Syndrome, Mild Language, Sort Of, Space Flight, Stockholm Syndrome, Underwear Theft, rich heiress, space smuggler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 23:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13891755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Exile/pseuds/The_Exile
Summary: It seemed like such a good way to get rich quick - a convenient security hole in the vaults of a leading corporate executive's private antique stash. Then a stowaway causes complications and now she won't shut up, sit down and act anything like a convenient hostage is supposed to.





	The Dashing Rogue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jungle_ride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungle_ride/gifts).



"Look, for the last time, this ain't a damn game," he growled, glaring over his shoulder. Not only had she gone and spent an hour in the rest room - while there was corp police and, if the word on the grapevine was true, Federation militia after him - she had come out dressed even more like a high class tart. In a very seedy spaceport. Where he didn't want to have any attention drawn to himself at all, never mind have to smooth out a fight over her and something she'd done with some even less savoury character than himself who probably had an even larger bounty on his head. At least she had given him enough time to refuel and organise a few repairs by the sort of mechanics who wouldn't ask questions about the bullet marks all over his hull. Or the complete lack of registered identity on the ship that had a lot more hidden compartments than was standard for that model of fast trader. 

"I should be saying the same to you," she rolled her eyes at him, giving him an even dirtier look when the ship suddenly lurched forwards, almost knocking her off her feet. Judging by his response of yelling expletives she had never heard before, not frequenting backwater asteroid mining colonies very often, while thumping the control panel so that the already shaking coffee cup was knocked onto the floor, she guessed that the problem was probably nothing out of the ordinary for the piece of junk he insisted was a starship. She had never before been in a starship that just plain didn't have any interior gravity controls. Or a functioning bathroom. 

"Seriously, though... look where you're going!" she yelped as they veered dangerously close to the space station's beacon. He released an exasperated sigh.

"Damn auto tracking still works, ya know!" he snarled. 

"Out here? The mapping satellite network reaches out here?"

"If it didn't, we could actually stay for long enough for the paint to dry. Not that the Feds don't know where all the good hiding spots are, I reckon. We're gonna be running for a long time, we're gonna run out of every supply we have more than once, we'll be going to some place that make AW-32-BZ seem like a Core World," he gave the serial code of the station they'd just undocked from, before grinning humourlessly, "That an exciting enough adventure for ya, Princess?"

"Seriously, though," she continued, apparently bored of the topic already, "You didn't have time to check your cargo hold for stowaways? What else did you not spot inside there? How do I know we're not bugged?"

"I check for bugs. Brats aren't usually stupid enough to hide inside the cargo holds of bad people who steal their daddy's priceless antique collection."

"Should have stolen a decent ship. I'd have given you the access codes. You don't get to have a life of your own as a corporate daughter if you don't know how to hijack every ship in the hangar."

"This is just a normal day for you, isn't it?" he sighed, "That's why you were pretty much packed up and ready to go in the short time I was there. You've got a damn hold-all in case some dashing rogue comes to steal you away."

"In case assassins come for me, actually," she said, her voice perfectly serious, "Corporate daughters have rivals and I'm turning an age when I'm considered a serious threat. In case you haven't noticed."

"Oh yeah, I did," he ran his eyes over her lithe, barely concealed figure with the undisguised emotions of any adult male who had been alone in the ass end of space for way too long. She wasn't exactly indecent, either - her silky flowing dress would be fine for one of her corporate soirees, he guessed. It just happened to have a very plunging neckline, long slits around the sides of the skirts, and to be made of a rather more gauzy material than strictly necessary. A shower of gems was strategically placed above a sturdy bustier. All completely impractical for any kind of emergencies that might happen on a rickety starship, especially if they had to get into vacc suits, he still managed to think clearly enough to note. He hadn't changed his flight suit since he defected from the Federation twenty years ago and his hair would probably had rats living in it if he hadn't lost it in an incident with the engines malfunctioning last week but at least he could get actually his outfit into a vacc suit. 

"You do kind of attract the whole 'dashing rogue' treatment, anyway," she told him, "As I recall, you left a calling card. With a cheesy nickname. And you stole my underwear as a stupid gimmick."

"I stole your damn underwear because it could feed a family for a month out here in the belts."

"Asteroidal colonies eat underwear?"

"You know what I mean," he taught her a few more choice expletives, "You're not getting them back, anyway. I sold them already."

"Kinky. Do you want the rest?" she mimed reaching into her bustier. He deliberately turned back to the controls, even though it was pretty much a straight run through tediously featureless space.

"I could sell you, you know. Or worse. Much worse. You're lucky I'm not that sort of guy."

"You think a corporate heir doesn't learn to read people?"

"Not when they just sneak into a cargo hold, they..." he glared at her, "Hey, have you been watching me for longer than that? Tracking my ship? And you just let me in, then sprung this onto me? What the... what do you even get out of all this? Because if you've set me up..."

"Easy now," she raised her hands and backed away from the laser pistol that was suddenly pointed straight between her eyes, "It's not like that. This was just a good opportunity. I've needed to get out for a while and now I don't have to get word sent out over channels that are all controlled by the people I most don't want them to be intercepted by. Trust me, it'd cost me more, put me in more danger."

"Oh, great, you're in trouble with the family?" 

"Not that sort of trouble. An arranged marriage," she said, screwing up her face, "To someone a lot less young and pretty than you. And probably a lot less ethical."

"And that's not likely to get their entire fleet after me?"

"Well... probably... but so is stealing daddy dear's antiques. Probably about equally so, to be honest. I'm not sure if he even understands the difference between me and another valuable commodity."

"Well, you're my valuable commodity now. I'm technically holding you hostage, you know," he fixed her a glare that should not have provoked such a look of excitement, "You should try behaving yourself just a little, or you're going back in that crate."

"It would be more comfortable than the bed," she said, "Although, that said, if you let me do some of the work around here, your floor wouldn't be covered in coffee stains."

"You wouldn't know hard work if I smacked you around the head with it," he accused, "Don't you dare come near the controls. Ever. I'm not having us crash into a sun or something just because you were bending over the controls at the time," With that distracting cleavage of yours, he mentally added.

"Okay, I'll let you crash the ship on your own," she said, changing her tone of voice to one a lot more sultry and deliberate, "There are things I know how to do quite well that usually work as payment."

"I like to think I can talk a girl into just doing that because they want to, not because one of us needs to pay the other. I am the Dashing Rogue, after all."

"Okay, then, if you say so, I won't bother hacking my dad's bank account," she yawned, stretched and wandered off the bridge back into the cabin. 

Seconds later, her snooze was interrupted by a tirade of even more profuse swearing than usual, punctuated by the low, monotone blare of the battle alert sirens.


End file.
